


The Brightest Fire

by BrightLotusMoon



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break the Cutie, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empathy, Epilepsy, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mikey Is An Iron Woobie, Psionics Has Side Effects, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Seizures, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Telekinesis, Telepathy, everybody needs a hug, migraines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightLotusMoon/pseuds/BrightLotusMoon
Summary: A near-death injury alters Michelangelo's brain in unexpected and surprising ways. The team handles Mikey and his unusual new skills well, but their enemies are very unhappy.





	1. Phoenix Rising

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this is a spiritual successor to "CFR 4: Crossfire" except that 2003 Mikey got psychic on his own. It is a follow-up to "Laugh It Hurts" featuring Mikey becoming Donnie's assistant and becoming proficient in psychology, neurology, and small medicine.
> 
> Warnings for self-injury and cutting at the end.

 

We can be legends after all  
Hey woah   
We can be legends after all  
Hey woah

Do you remember being young  
The world in our hands, your heart in a song  
Do you remember being young  
(Remember, remember)  
Nothing's ever what it seems  
Forget who you are, forget how to dream  
I think it's time that we believe  
(Remember, remember)

We can be wild, we can be free  
We can be anything in life we want to be  
We can move mountains, we can break walls  
We can stand tall enough to fight and never fall

We can be legends after all  
Hey woah  
We can be legends after all  
Hey woah  
We can be legends after all

Do you remember growing up  
Standing all alone, your back to the sun  
Do you remember growing up  
(Remember, remember)  
Tell me how it's gonna be  
If we win or lose wear your heart on your sleeve  
I think it's time that we believe  
(Remember, remember)

We can be wild, we can be free  
We can be anything in life we want to be  
We can move mountains, we can break walls  
We can stand tall enough to fight and never fall

We can be legends after all  
Hey woah  
We can be legends after all  
Hey woah  
We can be legends after all  
We can be legends, we can be legends  
We can be legends after all  
We can be legends, we can be legends

Stand up and shout it out if you want it  
(Remember, remember)  
Reach out and touch the sky 'cause you got it  
We'll be here forever  
Stand up and shout it out if you want it  
(Remember, remember)  
Reach out and touch the sky 'cause you got it  
We'll be here forever

-Sleeping With Sirens, “Legends”

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was the traumatic brain injury that started it.

No. It began long, long before that.

He was twenty years old and he was going to die.

The cyborg mutant had grabbed him right in the middle of rain-soaked battle, lifted him above its canine head with long glinting teeth, and began to crush his torso with its massive hands. He had no idea what was fractured and what was broken, but he was on fire. Blood ran down his plastron and sides in rivulets; there were deep gashes starting in the flesh right above his plastron and stopping in the middle of his plastron. Gouges that would leave deep scars. The rain caused the blood to flow down across his legs.  
  
The dog mutant’s metal hand grabbed his throat and started to squeeze. A claw caught the side of his neck and blood began to pool into his collarbone. Spots formed in front of his eyes. When he coughed he tasted blood. He kicked out hard with his left foot, striking the mutant in the shoulder so hard that it stumbled. His ankle snapped violently and sent shockwaves up his leg. He shrieked and it echoed across his body; he could literally feel all the ways the bones in his lower leg were cracking.

The mutant roared in pain, suddenly. Distant thunder roared with it.

He could hear someone yelling his name. Raph, probably.

He struggled, teeth clenched, determination surging.

Another heavy metal fist connected deeply with his right temple, sending crashing lightning bolts of pain all through his head. There: a second canine cyborg mutant, who was stabbed at by Raph and brought down with a howl. The canine who held him increased its pressure. He felt his body giving in. He could hear his heartbeat, straining.

Everything fell away for a millisecond and something deep inside him yelled at him to stay, to fight. His fists tightened around his beloved nunchucks, and even as his rain-blurred vision darkened, as his breath was lost, he swung hard, connecting violently and deeply with the creature’s face. He felt flesh squelch and bone shatter. The cyborg dropped him as it crumpled, slamming its metal fist against his left shoulder as if in a last attempt. Electric, shattering pain flooded down his arm; his skin broke open and he felt bone rip through it. The pain swamped every sense he had.

He was falling too fast. He felt his caparace and the back of his head crunch against the wet rooftop concrete. To his pain-ravaged mind, his body seemed to go numb, and he sank into nothing. He became nothing, he _was_ nothing.

There was a glowing thing, azure and amber, intertwining like a knot, and it swept over the universe inside him.

Something burst inside his brain, electricity exploding, shattering something massive and mountainous. Walls crumbled into dust. The ground erupted, and more azure-amber light flooded the world. Somewhere, there was screaming, and then he fell.

He was eight years old and he was sitting with Sensei in the dojo, meditating deeply. In his mind, Sensei’s voice encouraged him to reach out to the strange, pulsing sphere of light in his mind, to become familiar with it. He could almost touch it, it was going to merge with him. Beautiful shades of blue and orange reached for him and the energy sang like a lullaby; he began to laugh. He managed to press his hands against the force, which felt like a ray of sunshine on his skin. Humming flowed through his body; he felt lighter and stronger, and the energy whispered to him, the energy told him things about the world. The energy told him that it would help him know things and touch things. His sensei’s aura radiated with pride, wonder, love, and astonishment. He started to turn around, ready to grin at his happy sensei.

The meditation was broken by a strange noise. He gasped and Splinter growled. And then a hole ripped in the air, and a very round-bodied man with a small beard stared at them out of the hole.

Master Splinter stood, grabbing his hand so he had to stand too. “Why have you contacted me, Ancient One?” Splinter demanded.

“Because of him,” the round man smiled, pointing a finger right at him. His eyes widened and he squeezed Splinter’s hand in worry.

“I could sense that awakening power inside him all the way from Japan! Do you really want to unleash that kind of ability on a mere child? Do you really think he can control it right now? You know how he is prone to distraction and attention difficulties!”

Master Splinter’s eyes narrowed. “Michelangelo may not have good focus in general, but if it is something that interests him, it is nearly a hyperfocus, something the humans call Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, as I have been reading. It is an odd term for such a condition but it can be managed despite any deficiencies and disorders. I believe he will master his psionic abilities in time.”  
  
“And yet you are still unsure where those powers came from. The mutagen, perhaps? Were the abilities mutated into him? Did they alter his very neurology? Was it spirits, maybe, did spirits invade his mind when he was a baby?”

“That does not matter right now. If we need to know, we will find out later. Right now, I am his sensei and his father He is my son and my student, and I shall take that responsibility to train him!”

“Listen to me, Splinter. I know what I am talking about. He is a young child; he may always have the mindset of an eternal child. Even as an adult he may not have the mastery it takes. I admit that he has the brightest fire I have ever encountered in a soul. However, even the bright ones burn out. It would be best to lock these powers deep down until he is ready to control and master them. Allowing them to break free will be more destructive that you think.”

The hole in the dojo suddenly closed up, the round man was gone.

He stared up at his sensei, mouth open.

“But Daddy, I’m good at all the ninja training so far! You said so. You said I could be better than Leo! I could be super good at the psychic stuff too! Like a superhero!”

Smiling, his sensei made him sit again. “Michelangelo…I think the Ancient One has a point. Your abilities are far bigger than you. You were able to save me from being crushed by all that debris during our walk in the tunnels, but it caused a very severe headache for you. You were shaking in pain. I do not want you do endanger yourself. I believe you will need to grow up and be much older before you can handle such a responsibility.”

He pouted and frowned and thought. He sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Okay.”

And they went back into his mind, into his spiritual plane, and all by himself he formed a wide, deep pit under that beautiful glowing shining orb that just wanted to embrace him. Then he made a wall spring up to hide it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Maybe in ten years I’ll see you again.”

Master Splinter helped him seal the hole, and drew him into a strong embrace. He grabbed his sensei’s robes and sobbed, his heart broken.

He was fifteen years old, and he had completely forgotten. His mind chased dreams of heroics, he joked for his brothers, he became a comedian to keep their spirits high. His sensei never said a word, whether out of lost memory or keeping secrets.

He was sixteen years old, seventeen - he simply assumed he was athletically gifted and occasionally insightful; his brothers often marveled at his emotional intelligence, his boundless energetic optimism, his capacity for empathy.

He was nineteen years old, and depression hit hard suddenly, a hollow empty pit yawning inside him, and as the months went by his smile was a mask.

Picking up the blade and pressing it to his arms was the norm. It was easy. It was a quiet release and a relief. He had so many battle scars anyway.

He was twenty years old, and he was dying.

He could feel hands on him, suddenly, in the dark. He could hear faraway voices. They sounded like his family. He was being held down, he could sense the ground moving under his body. There was pressure on his head, his shoulder, all over his chest. Hands grasped his left foot. Pain exploded in him and he screamed, but it echoed as a tiny whimper. His lungs went into spasms. His whole body started to shake.

A hand was pressed to his cheek. A shaking voice that sounded like Leonardo very clearly said, “It’s okay, Mikey. You’re going to be okay. We’ll take care of you. Just hold on. Stay with us. Breathe. Mikey, come on, keep breathing.”

He couldn’t move. His heart strained, his lungs shuddered. Every breath he drew in was fire, every exhale was ice. His body was still shaking, his body wouldn’t stop shaking. His whole brain was on fire and being struck by ice. His brain was being electrocuted from the inside. He screamed again, and the echo was a weak, mewling whine.

Another voice, it sounded like Donatello, was yelling. “-having a seizure! Leo, hold him gently, keep his neck and head steady, that’s it. Raph, just drive!”

A hand slipped gently, so gently, under his head. Something soft was pressed to the back of his head, then something else soft was pressed to the side of his head. The same voice – Donatello, definitely – was saying, “Head wounds bleed more, so it always looks bad. But I guarantee he’s got a severe concussion and possibly a skull fracture, he probably will have some sort of brain damage. I’ll need that scanner that looks into the brain, I think Leatherhead has it.”  
  
Raphael was snarling something, and he could hear his name in that panicky ferocious jumbled yell.

The words slipped and slid together crumbling into the void. The dark surrounded him again, a blanket of cool tranquility. He didn’t feel anything and nothing was happening. Nothing happened for a long time.

Time didn’t have any meaning.

His body came back to him very gradually, slightly burning, slightly freezing. He felt everything but he couldn’t move. He knew he probably could move; his mind wouldn’t let him. He let his senses roam. There were tubes up his nostrils; he could feel crisp air pumping down his sore throat. His entire head and neck felt inflamed, achy, and bruised. His left shoulder felt like ground meat and his entire plastron was on fire and unbelievably achy, tender and sore and bruised beyond comprehension. His left leg from knee to foot throbbed and stung, a stabbing sort of agony that made him want to sob.

And then, like a soothing wind, all that pain began to dull, like background noise. It was enough to grant him the power to sigh in relief, even though it felt more like a distant whine. But he was no longer _consumed_. His body was his, for now. He was now able to feel a mattress under him and he could now feel gauze wrapped around him, bandages pressed to his skin, his head and neck and sides, gauze and plaster and the memorably thrilling sting and pull of stitches here and there. That meant, logically, that he was in the infirmary, hooked up to an IV, doped up on painkillers, sutured and bandaged and made as comfortable as possible. The multiple pillows under his head confirmed it. Yup.

Now, he just need to drag himself all the way to consciousness and hope his family was around to greet him.

Another small whimper bubbled up from his sore throat. As it reached his lips, he managed to form it into “Ow…”

Something near him moved. “Wha- Mikey? Mikey? Are you awake? Can you hear me? Mikey!”

Raphael sounded raw and full of despair as though the whole world had been destroyed and slowly pieced back together around him. “Holy shit. Mikey? Mikey, c’mon, you gotta wake up, bro, wake up for me, please!”

Dark fog rolled through him and it was like being made of concrete. He pushed.

Aand…nope. He couldn’t. He was done. It was too hard. Exhaustion swept over him. Regardless of how dull, the pain was still sharp enough that he wanted to beg for something to end it. But his poor brother’s voice was _pleading_ and _desperate_ and it terrified him. He needed to answer. He needed to wake up. He _needed_ to _wake up_. He breathed out “Hhhe-lp…” and found that his eyelids were lighter than they had been. He felt them flutter.

“Shit! Shit! Donnie! Leo! Sensei! Get the hell over here, Mikey’s wakin up, I swear, he’s awake!”

A presence loomed over him, comforting and powerful. A hand grabbed his and squeezed. “Mike. Hey. Hey, little brother. It’s me, it’s Raph. We’re all here. Can you open your eyes? Please, you gotta open your eyes. Please, Mikey.”  
  
As if on their own, his eyelids lifted halfway and he whined at the light. Lights around him were dimmed. He managed to focus. Raphael was the first thing he saw, his face filling his vision, amber eyes wide with relief, fear, exhaustion, panic, love.

“Rraaph,” he croaked. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, hot.

His older brother grinned, huffing out a laugh. “Hey there. Hey. There you are, Mikey. There you are. We missed you, we really missed you.”

He swallowed. It tasted like burning. “H-h-hurts.”

“I know, Mikey. I know. Donnie and Sensei will help. April and Leatherhead are here too. We’ll make it hurt less, ‘kay? Just…just don’t leave me again, just stay with me.”

His vision cleared a little more. He opened his eyes all the way. He could now see Leonardo’s face, pinched with fear and worry. “Mikey,” Leo was saying. “Hey. Do you know where you are?”

He blinked. “H-home. Brrotherss. F-friends. L-Leo…s-safe? All…safe? Okaay?”

Tears were in Leo’s eyes. “Yes, everyone is safe. We’re all okay, we’re healed up.”

“H-how…how…h-how l-lo-ong…”

“Six weeks, Mike.” That was Donnie. He held a bottle of water with a straw in it. Mikey couldn’t move his head and was so grateful for the straw that he almost cried. He drank slowly, savoring it. Over a month? Shouldn’t he have healed?

“There was a lot of damage,” Donnie said gently, probably sensing his question. “No wonder your body shut down for so long. Your broke eight ribs and your right lung was bruised and scratched. Your left ankle was shattered, your left shin bone was snapped in half and the muscles and tendons were damaged. Your left shoulder was dislocated and broken and sliced open. We have mainly been concerned about your massive head injuries. Severe concussion. There was an open linear fracture in your skull on the right side. On that side and the back of your head were heavy gashes. You also were strangled to the point of oxygen deprivation.” Donnie paused, swallowing. “O-Once you can move, April and I will give you some neurological tests. Luckily linear fractures are less concerning than compound.” His voice remained gentle throughout, though shaky. Donnie had gotten into the habit of quickly explaining the extent of their injuries while they were waking up, so they could process the pain and information without unknown fears. Mikey knew it soothed him at least. Donnie had never sounded so upset before, so Mikey knew it must have been serious.

Listening intently and patiently, Michleangelo just hummed in agreement. He didn’t feel frightened, only annoyed. He just wasn’t sure when he’d be able to even sit up, let alone eat a slice of pizza. His left leg felt both numb and burning, his left shoulder throbbed, sending tingles down to his fingers, and his right side ached with each breath.

He honestly could not recall the last time he had been this epically injured. Not even after that fight on the Utrom ship with Ch’rell.

And then there was the…thing…in the back of his mind. That expanding glowing pulse of blue-orange energy. It was a different, shivery kind of headache. The sheer lack of knowing stole his breath. He stared at his hands, which had started to shake.

April’s small hands appeared and covered his warmly. “Breathe, Mike. It’s going to be all right. We will take care of you. Really, we expect you to be milking this once you’ve recovered more. You know you’ll be waited on hand and foot for weeks!”

Mikey managed a trembling smile for her. “Th-th-anks, A-April.” Even his voice seemed shaky. He was so tired. Why was he so tired? He’d slept for six whole weeks! He felt himself yawn.

Donnie suddenly smiled. “Looks like the extra pain relief I just injected into your IV is finally taking effect.”

Mike blinked and then realized that the worst of the pain had been fading into the background. He managed another slight smile. “Yay, Don, you’re…the best,” he rasped. “But…I don’ wanna sleep…”

Master Splinter was there, stroking his forehead. “My son, you need to heal. Now that you are out of your coma, we will be able to aid you in recovery. You must pay attention to your body and let us know what is needed, you mustn’t hide anything.”

Mikey whined slightly, but Splinter’s warm paw on his head was so soothing…

“We’ll be here,” he heard Leonardo say, “We’ll take care of you, Mikey. You’ll love it.”

He fell asleep with the corners of his mouth turned up.

* * *

 

He sat up. He had been lying on a checkered tile floor, but it was warm, and there was warmth all around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a fireplace, stone carvings of faces bordering the screen.

“Hello,” a woman said.

He whipped his head to the right. “Uh, hi?”

Her skin looked like alabaster, nearly bloodless, inhuman and uncanny; her hair was long and inky black, and her floor-length sleeveless dress looked like midnight in starlight. She smiled. “You’re always so friendly. I like that.”

Mikey blinked, frowning. “Hey, have we met?”

The woman just laughed a little. “No. But I know you. I’m Hecate. You’re Michelangelo.”

“Uh. Yeah. Um. Hang on, isn’t Hecate the name of a Greek goddess?”

She grinned. “Indeed.”

“Oh. Ohh. Oh wow. Whoa. I…you…you’re a god? You’re…you’re real?” He stumbled trying to stand up, threw out his arms to balance. His hands were glowing. Why were his hands _glowing?_

He looked back at the woman. Her eyes bore into his. They were black, they were glowing, a ring of silver around the irises, a ring of gold around the pupils.

Transluscent energy formed around her body, taking on the shapes of two more women, one very old, one very young, before pulsating and becoming an aura.

“Whether I am real or not doesn’t matter,” she said. “You are. You are here, in your mind, at the crossroads. I am here to guide your choices.”

His eyes were burning; all he could see was light. “I can’t…I don’t understand.”

The light burned through his body and he yelled in pain. What looked like spiderwebs, blue and orange, branched across his sight. A network of webbing, electricity sparking across.

“You know what this is,” came the woman’s voice. “You know everything. Reach for that knowledge.”

He swallowed. “Neural network. My brain. The neuroplasticity is…changing, the amygdala is growing bigger. My whole limbic system is changing to accommodate…how do I _know_ all this?”

“You know,” was all Hecate said. “You’ve always known.”

 _No, I never knew ANYTHING,_ he wanted to cry. He was the clueless one, remember? The clown, the fool, he was the one who never understood Donnie’s techno-speak or…

Wait.

“You get it now, don’t you?”

His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. “Heh. I guess listening to Donnie as background noise for a decade really did pay off.”

“Donatello was not so much interested in psychology or neurology,” Hecate told him quietly. “You were. You didn’t realize it. You had placed yourself into a role.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubbed his neck, sighing. “We’re not kids anymore.”

She nodded. “You don’t need to play a role anymore.”

“But that’s all they’ve known of me…”

The whole room began to shake suddenly, and then Hecate was _right there_ , cool pearl hands on his face. “It will be all right,” she murmured. “Believe in yourself.”

He felt himself shake and spasm, crashing to the floor while the tiled ceiling trembled and cracked. The webs inside his head were sparking desperately. _Make it stop, it hurts, I can’t move, why can’t I move?_

“…help me…” And his voice was ripped away by the roar in his head.

 

* * *

 

“…easy, Mikey, easy, we’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

That was Donnie’s voice. Wait, what? Where…?

He couldn’t move. But his limbs were trembling beyond his control, his breaths stuttering.

Arms embraced him very gently; he recognized Raphael’s musculature. Donatello was murmuring something. Raph was nuzzling his good shoulder and breathing steadily, he was whispering, “Mikey, if you can hear me, do mindful breathing with me. Breathe with me, little brother, you can do it…”

A choked sob escaped him and he felt control slam back into him. Gasping, he peeled open his eyes and looked right into Raph’s terrified face.

“Mikey?” Terror turned to shock, and then confusion. “Your eyes…what’s with your eyes? Donnie! His eyes changed! Seizures can’t do that, can they?”

Donnie’s face came into view, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit. I don’t understand. He’s got gold rings around his eyes!”

Mikey almost stopped breathing.

After the initial alarm wore off, Mikey managed to ask for a mirror. As he suspected, his blue eyes were brighter and the same gold he’d seen around the goddess Hecate’s eyes were ringed around them. He felt robbed of breath until everything came back to him. The memories of his childhood discussion with Master Splinter and the Ancient One. Pushing down his psychic abilities. The head injury. The room inside his mind. His conversation with Hecate.

His head was pounding.

He groaned, panting, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, Leo was staring at him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Time must have passed; he must have fallen asleep.

“What?” he moaned. “What…what is it? S-somethin’ on  my face?”

Leo was chewing his lip. “Mike…we…we left something out before, when you first woke up."

Something in his mind whispered but he couldn’t make it out. It sounded like Leo’s voice. He tried to concentrate. His head hurt too much.

He suddenly caught a flash of something; a vision. His brothers screaming. Blood in his mouth, blood all over. Pressure on his chest over and over. Being cradled in Leo’s arms, his brother sobbing. Rain splattering against him, washing away the blood.

His left hand twinged and twitched and he forced it up until it was in the air. Leonardo saw and grabbed it with both hands.

“We…we took down the mutants, after you went down, and we went to grab you to get to the Battle Shell. You…Mikey, you weren’t breathing. You didn’t have a pulse.”

Michelangelo just stared at him.

“I grabbed you close and I…I started screaming. Raph pulled me away and made me think straight. D-Don and I performed CPR. It took a long time. We probably broke more of your ribs. When you finally started breathing again, we couldn’t move. I grabbed you again and I just held you, I was sobbing. I know we had to get you home but I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t let my baby brother go.” His head was low, he wasn’t looking at Mike. “I’m…I’m sorry, Michelangelo. I was paralyzed. I was terrified. I was concentrating so hard on finishing off the enemy that I didn’t allow any of us to reach you and you technically died. It’s my fault. You have brain damage because of my actions.”

Mikey felt Leo’s hands press his hand so hard it was nearly crushing. He inhaled, his head throbbing even harder, emotions he couldn’t identify sweeping through him. He fought, squeezing his hands, tensing his feet.

“Leo,” he whispered. “Leo, look at me.”

A few seconds passed. Leo’s face was streaked with tears, his lower lip trembling. Mikey had never seen him this upset. He felt tears in his own eyes.

“It’s okay, Leo,” he said, his throat still raw. He was sure he sounded horrible. He pushed as much love and calm into his voice as possible. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Stop…stop blaming yourself. Stop it.”

He panted, his throat burning. He watched Leo grab a glass of water with a straw and he joyfully drank. He didn’t look away from Leo. “Leo…stop bein’…guilty. Stop…with the…guilt. It hurts.”

_Huh?_

“Huh?” Leo asked. “What hurts Mikey? Where does it hurt?”

“N-no. No,” he said, shaking his head. “I-I mean…your guilt. I…I feel it. It hurts.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed and he cupped Mikey’s cheek. “Mikey, you can feel what I feel?”

_I can? Well…yeah. I guess I can. Because…because those powers are unlocked._

“Y-yeah. S-so quit it.” He managed a trademark goofy smile. But Leo didn’t smile back.

“Maybe your spiritual intuition got kicked up a notch when you took the brain injury,” he murmured, halfway to himself.

_Bro, you have no idea._

“I should get Splinter,” Leo was saying absently. “He’ll know how to help you.”

Mikey said nothing, just lay back and breathed, grateful for the water in his stomach. He wasn’t even sure if Splinter would remember what he did all those years ago.

The dark crept toward him. “I don’t wanna be alone,” he squeaked suddenly, startling himself.

Leonardo blinked and grabbed his hand again. “You won’t be, Mikey. Give me one second.” He hurried off. Mikey didn’t want to blink, he didn’t want to fall asleep again.

Leo yelled out something. Someone yelled back. There was movement in the distance. Leo was back, running a hand over Mike’s head and cheek. “Master Splinter is on his way. Can I get you anything? More water?”

He was so gentle, Mikey wanted to cry. “Please.”

Leo turned away and produced a large bottle, tipping it to Mikey’s mouth. Mike felt it slide into his mouth and coughed, water dribbling down his chin. Leo quickly produced a straw. Mike drank down half the bottle before Leo took it away. “Leatherhead said you shouldn’t eat solid food for a while, so Raph is going to bring you some of his protein shakes. And applesauce. And you’re hooked up to a liquid nutrient IV feed. But this will put something in your stomach.”

Mikey smiled. “What, no tomato and cheese soup? It’s like liquid pizza.”

Leo smiled back, and Mikey thought _Score! Finally! He smiles!_ “Maybe in a few days, once you’re stronger.”

A shadow fell over him. “Hey, you,” Raph said, a plastic bottle in his hand. He was shaking it. “Leo, gimme a straw. This one’s chocolate fudge.”

“Awesome,” Mikey rasped. Raph started to bring the shake to his mouth. Mike managed to shakily lift his right arm enough to grasp the bottle with his fingertips. “Hey now,” Raph said, “Let us baby you right now.”

“Awww,” Mike groaned, but felt himself grin. “Am I that weak?”

Raph shoved the straw between his lips. “Basically, yeah, knucklehead. You kinda shut down for a month. It’s only been a day since you woke up. You should be lovin’ all this attention.”

Mikey merely sucked on the straw and winked. When he had drank everything, he settled into the mass of pillows and grinned. “That mean I can beg for more comics?”

Raphael actually grinned back. “Hell, I’d call Silver Sentry himself if it’d make you better.”

“Dude’s number in my Shell Cell, ya know.”

Raph tilted his head. “Really? Really?”

If he had been strong enough, Mikey would have folded his arms. He just pouted. “It is kinda my occasional every few months day job, you know.”

Raphael merely blinked at him.

“Well…okay, I’m on call. I’m, like reserve. Third Wednesday of every fourth month, and also, like, leap year. I--”

“Mikey, shut up,” Raph said kindly, putting a hand on his plastron. “I can call the Justice Force guys for ya.”

Mikey made a rasping squealing sound, which became a coughing fit.

“But not now,” Raph said, moving to help sit him up more and to pat his carapace. “You’re a fuckin’ newborn kitten, Mikey.”

“Make a joke…about bottle feeding,” Mikey coughed, “an’ I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, twerp.” They both knew Raph would. Mikey turned the cough into a weak chuckle.

Raph gave him more water, then fluffed the several pillows and propped him so his shoulders were elevated. “You gotta sleep, little bro. Ya need to repair. I know we heal faster than humans, but you took worse blows than all those times when we fought Shredder combined. It’ll be a few weeks. Soak it up. Use your shell cell like a call button. Jus’ don’t call _me_ more than ya have to.”

Mikey felt the love and care radiating, yet he smirked and stuck out his tongue. Appearances, after all.

Master Splinter arrived and took a chair next to the bed. “Leonardo mentioned that you were able to sense his emotions.”

Mikey sighed. “ _Hai_ , Sensei, that’s true.”

“He is somewhat shaken. He thinks it may be part of your head injury.” The rat’s head tilted. The question sat there between them.

Mike closed his eyes. When he opened them he looked calmly at the ceiling. “Sensei, what do you remember about me as a little kid? Like, say, eight years old?”

Splinter smiled. “Do you mean our meditation session with the Ancient One?”

Mikey’s eyes widened and slid to him. “You remember.”

“I do. Meditating upon the situation over the last month helped me recall the details. I began to sense a huge change in your spirit during your coma. I could not reach you, but I could feel the power that was growing inside your mind.”

Mikey took as deep a breath as he could. “‘Kay. That’s…that’s really all I wanted to know right now.”

“You are tired,” Splinter said, stroking his cheek.

He smiled. “Mmm. They keep sayin’ I need to rest.”

“Rest, my little one. You are cared for.”

Mikey closed his eyes, felt his body sink into the softness, and stayed comfortably in the darkness.

 

* * *

 

The darkness lifted when he felt his legs moving.

“Mmrmph. Wazzit? Oww, wha?”

“We’re exercising, Mike,” came Raph’s voice. “Welcome to day three after coma. And don’t complain. You never did when we did this durin’ yer coma.”

“Tha’s because it was a coma, dude.” Mikey yawned and opened his eyes. He found that he could lift himself higher onto the pillows, which he snuggled into. Raphael was gently massaging his legs, lifting and moving the right one.

“I put m’self in charge of keeping you fit and stretched every day,” Raphael explained. Mikey nodded, wiggling his fingers and toes, grinning when Raph grabbed his righ foot and flexed it. “So you can feel pressure like this?” Raph asked, pushing and pressing hard enough to make Mikey yelp.

“It feels all bruised and sore, but yeah.” Mikey nodded at his left leg. “How’s the broken one?”

“Broken. Like, lots of broken. Tendons and muscles got torn up. Donnie and LH think you’ll be okay with enough rest and therapy.” Raph leaned forward, flexing Mikey’s foot and ankle even more. “What do _you_ say, bro?”

Mikey frowned. “Pardon?”

“You were asleep for almost three days. Splinter told us about your, ah, your brain injuries. Ya know, the shit you and him kept locked up for a dozen years?”

“Oh, that. Uh. I, uh.” Mikey tried his goofiest smile. His head started aching. “I…I just woke up, Raph, c’mon…”

Raph grinned. “I’m teasing, Mikey, nobody expects ya to do jack shit right now.”

Mikey swallowed. The pounding in his head was worse. He realized his hands were shaking.

Raph was frowning, walking toward him. “Hey, it’s okay, really, I was just teasing. You okay?”

He groaned. “Head hurts. Sorry. I dunno why--”

The swinging lamps over head began swinging on their own, rapidly, and a bulb went out. Some of the headache faded.

Mikey managed to lift his right hand to press against his head. “Feel kinda sick.” The world was spinning now.

Raphael turned and grabbed something, pushing it against Mikey’s chest: a plastic bowl. Mikey took deep breaths; determined to steady himself. Agony burst behind his eyes. One of the table trays flipped over and crashed loudly. Mikey’s head exploded and he retched, crying out. Raph’s hand was lightly gripping the back of his neck and his carapace as he bent over the bowl. It was painful, burning his throat. He didn’t think there was anything in his stomach. But his stomach stopped spasming as the pain in his head faded. He fell back, gulping in air, taking the water Raph offered.

“Ugh, gross, dude.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mikey. We’ve all been there.” Raph took away the bowl to be washed, and rubbed Mike’s arm.

Groaning again, Mikey massaged his forehead as Don and Leo ran in. “Everything all right?” Don asked. We heard a crash and Mikey being sick.”

“Telekinesis activating, I guess,” Raph said. Everything echoed in Mikey’s head. “Our little bro’s a certified superhero.”

Swallowing, Mike managed a faint smile. “You gotta fill me on that conversation, guys.”

He kept his eyes shut as Donnie’s hands moved over his head and neck and as Raph moved around, stroking his arms. There was rustling; he felt the IV line move. “I’m giving you a little more pain relief,” Don said. “I’m not surprised you’re nauseated. Concussion plus seizures plus even more electrical activity in your brain.”

Mikey opened one eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Don smiled at him. “You’ve been my assistant for the last few months, what do you think?”

“Ugh, Doonnniieee, I’m not in the mood for games.”

A sigh. “It just means that you’ll be having some side effects as your abilities start to really kick in. Migraines. Seizures. Vertigo, maybe. Syncope, even.”

“Blah blah, headaches and fainting, yeah. Seriously, epilepsy, dude? You sure?”

Donnie looked at the others and bit his lip. “Possibly a reactive epilepsy, yes. Your entire limbic system has been altered, particularly your temporal lobes and amygdala. Your amygdala is acutely enlarged.”

“Aww, you’re cute too.”

Don giggled. “You’ll probably feel a lot more emotional.”

“I loooove you guuuys!”

“Now you’re just playing.”

“Damn right.”

“Ah, Mikey,” Leo smiled, “Always finding the positive in everything.”

“That’s why you love me!” Mikey could feel his headache fading even more as the morphine swept over him. His body was buzzing pleasantly. He almost wanted to get out of bed and dance. “Hey, put on some music, let’s have a dance party.”

Donnie grinned. “Yeah, he’s high on the good stuff. Mikey, listen to me. You are not to leave that bed without someone supporting you. Trust me, it’s bad.”

Wiggling, Mikey stretched his arms and managed to roll onto his side, ignoring the distant ache, and waggled his eyeridges. “What if someone does a slow dance with me? It’s supportive and there’s hugging.”

The turtles just exchanged glances. They smiled. “Mikey,” Raph said, tucking him in, “give it a few weeks. Then we can fuckin’ ballroom dance all ya want. Just…be good and listen to the doctors’ orders.”

Pouting, Mikey rubbed his hands over each other. “Ohh-kay.” He yawned. “Just tell me when I can eat pizza.”

His eyes closed without his meaning to. By the time he opened them, the infirmary was dark and the lair was silent. He went back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They told him he had slept in and out for another three days; they told him his body was working hard to recover and kept pulling him down into a healing sleep. He started to read between the lines.

It wasn’t a healing sleep, it was a _healing sleep._ The telekinesis was repairing him. Every so often he would find Leatherhead and April hovering over him with tablets and devices, sometimes wires attaching to his skull.

Michelangelo fled to his inner mind and found himself in an astral plane that was nothing but white and emptiness, except for a massive bonsai tree that seemed neverending.

“Yo, what about that checkerboard tile place?”

A figure stepped through a nowhere door, a tall golden blond man who looked like every beautiful human in history, his eyes the same azure shade as Mikey’s. What looked and felt like sunlight haloed his body. Mikey immediately wanted to bask.

“That was your specific healing place. This is where everyone comes while they’re healing.”

“Who are you?” Mikey breathed.

“Apollo. Hi!” And the man held out his hand. Mikey took it, and an incredibly soothing energy flew through his body at lightning speed.

“Whoa. Dude. You—you’re a god?”

The golden man shrugged. “Well. I am a personalized modified manifestation of an incarnation of a god. Every deity is. Humans call us gods because they don’t have the words. We’re more like interdimensional entities.”

Mikey absorbed this carefully. “Cool, cool. Okay. Did you bring me here?”

“Hecate did. She’s your…well, your spirit guardian, for lack of better human words. She watches you. I got roped into it. Hermes did too. Mostly because he likes you. You’ll see.”

“Soo…I’m here to…to heal?”

“To wait while you recover, yes. To make sure you don’t feel bored or scared. We know you’re afraid of the dark and of being alone. Why don’t you manifest something you enjoy?”

Mikey’s brow furrowed. “Um.” And then it was if the white place pulled the first thought suggestion out of his head, and there was a sofa, a table covered in comics and games, and an orange tabby curled up on the arm of the sofa.

“SWEET.” And Mikey bounced into the chair, running a hand over the small cat, which merely purred loudly. “Wait. What’s the catch?”

Apollo lifted his hands. “Just stay here until your brain decides you’re healed enough for the moment, it’s just a sleep, you’ll wake up on time. The healing will continue until your body improves. But right now, you need this rest. So just enjoy it.” He turned and vanished, and there was quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves.

Michelangelo could only shrug. That was fine with him.

He settled down in a meditative pose on the sofa and picked up the controller.

 

* * *

 

According to his family, Michelangelo wandered in and out of consciousness for another week, mumbling about the astral plane, the deity manifestations, his powers flowing through his neural network and whispering to him. When he fully woke up, finally able to sit up and stand, Raph’s knowing smirk was back, and he gripped Mikey’s shoulders in excitement.

“So, do ya know what you can do? Can you show us?”

Mikey found his smiles becoming shy. “Yeah, I guess. But Donnie wouldn’t want a demonstration here, around all his shiny toys.”

“That’s cool.” Raph handed him a crutch. “We set the dojo up for a playground.” He seemed almost abnormally happy, as if he knew something good.

Mikey tilted his head. He has missed out on a _lot._ It had now been two months since his injury. He had barely been awake for any of it.

His left shoulder was almost healed, and he could move his arm without too much agony. His ribs still ached. His left leg was still healing slowly and had been put in a walking cast. His concussion, though, was still a serious problem, and the aftereffects were pronounced. Don had to give him medication for the vertigo, and his speech slurred when he was exhausted. The anxiety and mood swings were more pronounced right before a psionic event. Luckily they had prepared for that.

“Dudes,” Mikey muttered, staring at the dojo, clinging to Raph as he tried not to put too much weight on his left leg. “What was I _doing_ while I was semi-conscious?”

“Some fascinating things,” Master Splinter said, adjusting the balance blocks. “You were in a dream-like state, able to eat, speak, and move with our help, but you did not respond unless we spoke to you in a specific manner. Even then, you spoke in monotone, hesitantly, only a few words. You seemed to be astral projecting halfway into a spiritual plane that not even I could reach. You told us what the psionics were changing inside your brain and nervous system. It was a bit like listening to Donatello Lite, with creative slang.”

Raph snickered. Don smiled, ducking his head. “Seriously, Mikey, you really have been paying attention to what I’d been teaching you. You had everyone stumped. You sounded like a basic neurology textbook.”

“Plus,” Leo said, sounding excited, “you were moving stuff around the lair. I’d ask you to help organize my room and you’d sit on my bed while everything was in the air.”

Mikey frowned hard at him, then gasped. “Wait. What did I do to _my_ room?!”

A vague, airy memory came to him; sitting on his own bed with Leo next to him holding an open garbage bag. In his ear, Raph chuckled harder. “We’ll show you later. Splinter wondered what you could do if he made it a command.”

Mikey gave Splinter a wounded look. “Sensei, how could you?”

Master Splinter smiled gently. “My son, we did not take advantage of your mental state, we merely tested your powers. You could have refused. The fact that you did not showed how willing you were.”

Mikey huffed. “My action figures better still be around.”

“Trust me, my son, everything you enjoy is most definitely still there.”

Raph began to gently lead him forward, and he pulled back with another snarl. “Wait, wait. Uh…you didn’t record any of that, did you?”

Raph coughed. Donnie looked away.

“You did! Okay, I deserve to see it!”

“Yes, you do,” Leo said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “We didn’t cause you harm, although Raph did attempt to pull you into pranks. I admit, we wanted to see just how much of your personality was intact. It wasn’t at all like mind control, Mikey, you were literally in a heavy trance, you were in a dream state. You wouldn’t respond, but after about two days, some part of you seemed to understand what we were saying to you. You would perform basic tasks as long as one of us helped you. But those tasks were almost completely psionic, it was as if that new part of you overtook your body. It was how you ate, drank, you even tried to walk on your own. We had to hold onto you or your injured limbs would give out and you’d collapse.”

Mikey rubbed his left shoulder, biting his lip.

“It really was the strangest thing I’d ever seen,” Leo continued. “April and Leatherhead actually stayed for a few days to help monitor you. Casey admitted he was scared you might hurt him.” Leo smiled softly. “It’s funny, but you had no instinct for battle or training, even if we asked. Raph would ask you to throw a punch, and then he’d be flying through the air and he would land on the floor but gently. You never touched him. Donnie tossed shuriken at you, they’d stop inches from you and fly into the nearest wall. You didn’t want to hurt us.”

Mikey just stared at him. “Damn, you guys, I can’t believe that happened.”

Donatello smiled. “We started putting you through clairvoyant and clairsentient exercises too. You blew through the Guess The Cards test. You read Raph’s thoughts like an open book. Luckily, you also eased his emotions.” Mike stole a glance at Raph, who cleared his throat and shifted his eyes, blushing. “You seemed to do it whenever Raph started getting irritated, you would touch his arm and suddenly it was like his entire body relaxed.”

Mikey found himself smirking.

“We have no idea about any telepathy,” Don continued. “You weren’t in the proper mental state.”

Mikey looked at the dojo, set up with all kinds of things he remembered from their childhood, when they were first training. There was an abrupt feeling of delight…but it was not his.

Blinking he reached automatically. It was like reaching out his arm, just inside his mind. The source was a purple sphere, and as soon as he poked it, Donatello let out a yelp.

Mikey looked at him. “Cool!”

“That was you?”

“Yeah, that was me!”

Donnie stared at him. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks, Spock!”

Leo folded his arms. “What was that?”

Grinning, Mike called up that mental image of colorful spheres, then reached out and poked the blue one. Leo shuddered and his eyes went wide. “Mikey, stop poking my aura.”

“Heh! Poke.”

Raph widened his eyes. “Whoa, ‘s that how he calmed me?”

Grinning even wider, Mikey nudged the red sphere with his fist and felt Raph jump.

“Damn. I…I _felt_ that. It felt orange. It felt like Mikey.”

Mikey cackled. “Dudes, that is so cool.”

Raph tightened his hold on his brother. “You…you’d better not pull pranks on me with this shit.”

Mikey smirked. “Yoouu don’t really mean that, Raaaph! I can feeeel iit!”

The sound of Raph’s teeth grinding could be heard easily. “Mikey, I swear…” And he fell silent. His other arm came up to wrap around. “Look, I’m just glad you’re okay enough to be a goofball. It would’ve been weird as fuck if you came out not being you.”

Blinking, Mikey leaned back into him. “I…yeah, okay. Thanks, Raph. That…means a lot.”

“Mikey, that week when you were in that fucked up trance was just…too much. It freaked me out. You’ll probably figure it out anyway, but I love ya, okay? I missed you.”

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut. Sincere, red red red emotion surged through him like an ocean and he couldn’t speak. The hand not holding the crutch grabbed Raph’s arm and held on, and he buried his face in Raph’s shoulder, sniffling. Raphael was _scared_ for him. “M’sorry, Raphie. I’m all right. Promise.”

Raphael sighed. “I know. I know.”

There was silence, except for the low rushing and buzzing in Mikey’s head that almost seemed to be words. He wondered if they were the thoughts of his family, or the very environment around him.

Raph hugged him a little tighter. He basked in it for a moment. He pulled away and turned toward Splinter. “Okay. I wanna see what you guys set up for me.”

Stepping into the dojo was like stepping under a wave of nostalgia. A lot of childhood “play equipment” from when they were first starting ninjitsu was laid out in patterns, things balanced carefully. Several balancing blocks were set up in a domino pattern. Even their old training weapons were there. Mikey felt himself smile, ideas coming instantly. He knew exactly what they had been thinking when they did this.

He raised his good hand, almost dismissively, and the balance blocks fell, knocking against each other. A pleasant tingle started in the base of his skull. “Cool,” he breathed.

By the time he got the wooden ninjaken mid-air and spinning, his entire head was tingling. It felt almost too good. A wide grin was plastered to his face.

“Well,” Donnie’s voice came, “now we know what he’s like fully aware.”

“It’s not as much as it was when he was in his trance,” Leo was saying. “But it’s still extremely impressive and effective.”

“Guys,” Raph snapped, “Stop giving him a big head; remember how he was when he got the Battle Nexus trophy? And the medal?”

“And those, like this, are well-deserved,” Master Splinter said quietly. “Michelangelo knows well enough that he does not need to boast.”

Mikey felt his teeth clench. _They don’t even know. They never knew._

His wrists were itching again. They hadn’t done that in weeks. He hadn’t felt the need to do _that_ in weeks.

He let everything go; the tingling faded. All the objects dropped to the floor, and the sounds of crashing wood and plastic were unexpectedly loud. Mikey took a few deep breaths and remembered to count them before turning to his family and putting on his best fake smile.

“Okay! I’m done. That was excellent, thanks!”

Splinter frowned at him. “Is everything well? I felt your spirit falter for a moment.”

 _Crud. I gotta ask Hecate about building walls or something._ “Of course, sensei! I just think that was enough. I’m kinda tired. I mean, I finally got out of bed, right?” He fake smiled again, widely and cheerfully, even added a little lightness to it.

_The self-made master of laughter; I can do this._

Splinter tilted his head, then bowed. “Naturally. Why don’t you go to your room and rest?”

Mikey perkily hopped out of the dojo. “Yes! Plus I can see what trance me did to it.”

He skipped past his brothers, as Donatello called out, “When you’re done resting, come to the lab, okay?” And he called back cheerfully and almost felt guilty. But he’d been doing this for a year, and his head really was pounding.

When Mikey opened his door, he stood there and gaped. His room was clean. Really clean. No food, nothing littered on the floor, things stacked on shelves and on his desk. But the familiar smells of pizza and ink and paper still lingered. He let out a breath. He inspected the comics first. They were put in reverse chronological order; at least his trance self knew what was sacred.

On the desk were a few fresh cans of energy drinks, energy bars, and bags of chips. Okay. Good. So even tripped out he knew to store snacks. Then again, he usually stuffed those things in his closet.

He checked the closet. It hadn’t changed. But he appreciated his trance self for organizing like that.

He dug into his closet for the small, hidden box, grateful that his trance self knew where to stop. He grabbed the container of anti-bacterial wipes. He knew he really should take it to the bathroom, to clean everything under running water, but not now, not when everyone assumed he was napping. The wipes would do. It hadn’t been that long, anyway.

His wrists were itching harder.

On his bed, Mikey opened the box and took out the kunai and wiped it down several times, until it was gleaming. Pushing back the wrist band on his left arm, he wiped his arm. A smile broke out at the feeling of the damp cloth against his skin; he’d always been more physically sensitive, seeking out sensory thrills. It was why human food was such a pleasure.

Still smiling, he pressed the kunai hard against his wrist, relishing in just the sensation of sharpness. Usually he didn’t need to draw blood unless the darkness was really bad. Now it almost relieved the stress. The darkness always pushed in hard whenever his brothers talked about his Battle Nexus win. It always overwhelmed if he thought about his time in that alternate dimension, with the superhero turtles. He hated that it even bothered him; what Donnie had gone through had been much worse. But he could never shut away that image of Sliver and what he had done.

Mikey shut his eyes sighing. It still hurt, and his throat was tightening up. The knot in his gut was growing. He felt cold. His right hand moved on its own, pressing harder, deeper. He didn’t even flinch when the blade bit his skin and started to pull. He was a ninja. This was nothing.

The scent of fresh blood, the feeling of it beginning to run down his skin, was nearly intoxicating. He wanted to fall back against his pillow and giggle. As long as he _chose_ it, everything was perfect. He _wanted_ this, he _needed_ it. And right now, today, after everything he’d learned, especially after the exhilarating rush the telekinesis had left…this felt like a fountain of joy. He tilted his head back, smile widening.

He pushed the kunai just a little deeper; it felt too good not to. He needed that feeling back. _Guys, stop giving him a big head._

 _You won the _Battle Nexus_  Championship by sheer_  _dumb luck_! _Emphasis on dumb!_

_Worthless. Useless. Burden._

_See? He’s good for something after all._

_I think you've got your _mask_  on too tight,  _Mikey__. _The _oxygen's_  not making it to your  _brain__.

Michelangelo heard a growling and realized it was coming from his throat. He sucked in a breath.

He heard another sound. His own name.

“Mikey, hey, I… _MIKEY!_ What are you _doing?_ ”

His eyes flew open. His hands unclenched and he dropped the kunai. Donatello’s shout rang in his ears. _Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I didn’t lock the fucking door!_

Dizziness slammed into him. He looked down to see blood dripping more than he was used to. Had he really cut that deeply? That wasn’t supposed to happen!

“Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god, Mikey…” And Donnie was right there, right fucking there, he had grabbed a towel and was holding it tight against Mikey’s wrist and Mikey could barely breathe. They had found him out. He’d been caught. _Go away, I just wanted to…I needed…but it hurt and I…please…_

“Mikey, Mikey, breathe, take deep breaths, it’s okay, you’ll be okay…”

He was being pulled off his bed. Someone was cradling him and carrying him, his towel-wrapped arm slung across his torso. He forgot how insanely _strong_ Donnie was, running full-speed through the lair like this. Actually, he couldn’t really _think_ at all.

“What the hell, Donnie, what—what the fuck happened to Mikey? Is he okay? Leo! Leo, get over here!”

 _No. No, please, not Leo. Don’t do this. Put me back in my room. Leave me alone. You’re making it worse. Go away_.

He was lying on the infirmary bed again. Donnie was unwrapping his arm and yelling things, not at him, he was yelling for things like antiseptic and gauze and, wait, why needles and thread, why a suture kit? Mikey felt even colder and closed his eyes.

He woke up suddenly, startled by a sudden movement, or maybe it was nerves twitching along his left arm.

“Hey, there.” That was Donnie. He was sitting in the chair. Watching.

He cringed.

Slowly, he looked his brother in the eyes. Eyes that were soft, sad, terrified, not at all angry, and so exhausted.

“Mikey, we need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” he said instinctively.

Don sighed, rubbed his face. “Obviously you need to talk to _somebody._ How long has this been going on? I saw scars.”

Mikey bit his lip. “A year.”

Slowly, Donnie nodded. “Okay. Makes sense. Do you want me to talk to Raph for you?”

Mikey blinked. “Why?”

“Because you and he insulted each other the most over the years. Leo and I didn’t help, but still, Raph threw the most hurtful stuff at you. I don’t care if it’s how he showed affection, I know it hurt you.”

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them burn. “Not, um, not really?”

“Mikey, come on.”

He whined. “Donnie, look, can I go back to my room? I forgot to lock the door. I don’t need help or therapy. I don’t want to kill myself, okay?”

“Then what do you want?”

He froze.

“Uh, Leo, maybe you should come back at a better ti--”

“There is no better time, Don.” And Leo took the other chair. Mikey kept his eyes closed. He waited for the lecture.

He heard Leo sigh. And then he heard Leo choke back a sob.

_Wait, what?_

He opened his eyes wide and looked.

Leo was crying. Leo was _crying._ Leo was grabbing Mikey’s other hand and holding it tight, breathing hard, struggling to talk, and Mikey had rarely seen him like this. He stared at him.

“What did we do wrong, Mike? What did _I_ do wrong? How can I make it stop hurting? How can I make it better for you?”

And Mikey kept staring, mouth open. Leo just held onto his hand tighter.

“I know you didn’t think about dying. I know it’s a release. I _know_ that. But the fact that you feel you need to self-harm, that in itself is…Mikey, it’s _you._ You’re our ball of sunshine.” Leo was gasping, his voice oddly high and tight. “How long have you really been feeling like this?”

“I…” Mikey swallowed. What was he supposed to do now? “Leo, I…”

“I told Raph not to come it unless you asked for him,” Leo rushed on, as if he desperately needed to get it all out before he crumbled. “I wasn’t sure if…I mean, he’s always been the first one to push you around, and…but Mikey, he’s upset, he’s panicking. He thinks he pushed you to this. He’s scared he’ll trigger you just by being near you.”

“No!” and Mikey sat straight up. “No! Fuck, no!” Leo pulled away, panting.

“Raph!” Mikey bellowed.

Donnie touched his arm. “Mikey, wait--”

“Fuck that. Raph! Raphie, get in here!”

He sensed him before he saw him. Red tinted with gray, fear and sadness and shock and confusion. Raph slowly inched into the infirmary, toward the bed, eyes wide and dilated.

He stood there, at the foot of the bed, as if frozen.

“Hey, Raphie.”

Mikey watched his brother swallow, his muscles all twitching. “H-hey, Mike. How…how’re ya feeling?”

Mikey managed to smile weakly. “Shitty. But it’s not your fault.”

Raph did not move. “You sure?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Mikey took a very deep breath. “I’m sure. It’s my fault. I, uh, internalized. You know. Pushed it all down and it got twisted up so it was worse.”

“Oh.” Raph nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

“I know you do.”

“Is it because of my comment about your head getting big?”

Mikey looked down and smiled wryly. “If I say yes, are you going to blame yourself?”

“Duh. Yes.”

Mikey pulled his hand from Leo’s and put his hands over his face. “Fuck. I really fucked up.”

“Maybe. But so did I,” Raph said quietly.

Mikey couldn’t help but laugh. “Damn bro, we’re all fucked up. Come here and hug me.” He glanced up and grinned when Raph practically tumbled into his arms, breathing heavily, burying his face in Mikey’s neck.

“Fuck, Mikey, you scared the shit outta me.”

“I guess I did. I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you are. The fuck you wanted you go and do that for?”

He rubbed his brother’s carapace, resting his cheek on Raph’s shoulder. “It…felt good. Felt better than the pain inside.”

Raph hugged him tighter. “Like…bashing on criminals, except on the inside, and to yourself?”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“I get that.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Sorry you did it? Or sorry you got caught?”

Mikey pulled away and stared at him. “Dude.”

Raph’s amber eyes gave off their own light. “We all have our ways of handling this kind of pain.” There was no judgement or anger in his voice, or his eyes. “Yours is just a little more… _directly_ self-destructive.”

Mikey wordlessly nodded.

“And Mikey, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for all these years of giving you shit for just bein’ you.”

“You know I deserved most of it, Raph.”

“No, you didn’t. I was shitty to you for no reason, most of the time.” Raph sighed and frowned. “Every kid brother is annoying and goads on the older brothers. I had – I have – lots of anger issues and poor impulse control. Doesn’t mean I should have taken it out on you.”

Mikey didn’t say anything; he couldn’t.

“Well,” Donatello said. “I did not expect an actual therapy session to happen right away in my infirmary, but this is pretty good.”

Leo smiled. “Well, when the family empath and therapist is the one going through the depression and self-injury, what do you do?”

Mikey laughed, genuinely. “Dudes, should I book this session or what?”

“In pizza and ice cream, maybe,” Raph said, “my treat.”

“Seriously, though,” Leo said, “Mikey, if you even consider going back to cutting, I’ll work you in the dojo so hard you’ll be too tired to pick up a knife.”

Mikey grinned at him. “You know it’s not that easy.”

“I’m not gonna make it easy. I’m gonna help. We all will. And help means pushing you through.” Leo folded his arms, his dark brown eyes hard and glittering. Mikey knew that look. He turned to Donnie, instinctively putting on the puppy dog eyes.

Donnie’s hazel eyes were already snapping with mirth and Mikey knew it wouldn’t work. “Trust me, Mikey, Splinter and I already cleared out your room while you were asleep. I’m glad you only had the kunai, frankly, it shows that you don’t have much to hide.”

“How psychological of you,” Mikey sighed. “Yeah, okay. Um. Where is Splinter, anyway?”

“Meditating,” Leo said. “You ready to talk to him?”

Sucking in a breath, Mikey looked at the ceiling. “Not…not yet. I need to think about what to say.”

“He’s not mad,” Raph said softly. “He just wants you to be okay.”

“I know that. But he’s a dad.” And Mikey smiled ruefully. “He’ll be worried.”

Donnie leaned over and rubbed Mikey’s scalp. “This soon after you recovered from a life-threatening injury, we’re all worried. But we also understand. You’ve gone through a massive upheaval. And the neurochemical actions and reactions aren’t helping. I bet the psionics have been giving you a hell of a buzz.”

“Aw, how could you tell?”

“Your eyes. Pupil dilation, brightness. The rush of dopamine and serotonin would be intense, quick, and probably too strong at first.”

“Hey,” Mikey said, “That reminds me of something I read. How LSD mimics the way a baby sees the world. Like, how the brain, like compartmentalizes so you see with all your senses and stuff.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Is this how you feel with the telekinesis?”

“What, like I’m on drugs? Maaybe?” Mikey rubbed his neck. “Look. You know neurology—wait, maybe you don’t, I’m the one reading those books. Okay, look, drugs is just one way to work the mind like that. It’s about, y’know, receptors and neurotransmitters and the brain’s own chemicals.”

Raph looked thoughtful. “Freaky. But, hang on. Maybe we can use that to help you start feelin’ better.”

Donnie nearly shot out of the chair. “That’s an idea! Redirect Mikey’s brain chemistry using his own newfound psychic abilities. Neuroplasticity and everything.”

“I like that,” Mikey said. “Plus, Leo gets to make me meditate.”

Leo propped both elbows on the bed and put his chin in his hands. “Remember all that dojo work I mentioned?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, work work work, train train train.”

He found himself caught up in Raph’s arms again, the embrace heavy and warm. “So, you’ll be okay, right, Little Bro?” And Raph’s voice was heavy, slightly cracked.

Mikey managed to nod his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.”

He felt Donnie on one side and Leo on the other and tried to wrap his arms around them both as they leaned on him, nuzzling him.

“We’ll be okay, brothers,” Mikey smiled.

 

* * *

 


	2. Into The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey has a tiny breakdown. The details of that medical video will be slowly revealed as chapters happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuuuck, I need to apologize. I've been in a major depression since...huh, beginning of December? I have so many stories to get out. I don't know why this chapter took so long. It was supposed to be twice as long.

Into The Fire

-

  
Life will come our way  
It has only just begun  
The world will die alone  
The frail will fall below  
Time will take our place  
We return it back to one  
The calm before the cold  
The long and lonely road  
Look for the light that leads me home

Tired of feeling lost  
Tired of letting go  
Tear the whole world down  
Tear the whole world down  
Failure

Drive the cloud away  
We will fall from last to none  
The dark before the dawn  
The war will carry on  
Look for the light that leads me home

 

Tired of feeling lost  
Tired of letting go  
Tear the whole world down  
Tear the whole world down  
Tired of wasted breath  
Tired of nothing left  
Tear the whole world down  
Tear the whole world down  
Failure

Tired of feeling lost  
Tired of letting go  
Tear the whole world down  
Tear the whole world down  
Tired of wasted breath  
Tired of nothing left  
Tear the whole world down  
Tear the whole world down  
We bury the sunlight  
(So long)  
Failure  
-Breaking Benjamin, “Failure”

-

  
It had been five whole minutes since the video had ended. Donatello shifted on his feet, desperately anxious, and finally dropped to his knees in front of the couch. Michelangelo still sat there, frozen, eyes fixed on the one television screen that had finished playing the video of his trance. Five minutes ago.  
“Mikey, say something,” Don whispered.  
“…something,” Mike muttered. It was almost a snarl. Donnie shivered. He glanced up at Master Splinter, whose ears lay flat, head bowed. We didn’t know. We didn’t realize. Oh, Mikey. We manipulated you. How could we?  
Breathing deeply, he crawled to the TV array and just stared at the static. Stared. Throughout that video there had been a tic in Michelangelo’s jaw, and Don recalled how the right corner of Mikey’s mouth dipped and twitched every time Master Splinter spoke, suggesting he do something with his abilities. Suggestions. Oh god, he couldn’t have consented, not really, and I just…I just let it happen.  
“Mikey, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, but it was under his breath and the only listener was the static.  
Michelangelo made an odd choking sound behind him.  
Splinter’s voice pierced through. “Michelangelo…my son, I must speak with you. I have so many apologies to make…”  
“NO.” And Mike’s voice was crackling, stormclouds quietly forming, and the family slowly looked at him. Donatello felt his little brother nearly vibrate.  
"I can't...I can't deal with this right now. I can't talk to you right now. I can't. I can't. I caaaan't..."  
And Donatello had heard his little brother say a world of words in various voices, but not like this. Shock and confusion had Donnie sitting there on the floor in front of the TV array, staring between Mikey and Splinter, the static of the ended video brushing the back of his head.  
Michelangelo still hadn't moved, but now his entire body was clenched and his breaths were shallow, eyes closed. Splinter gripped his walking stick and looked as though his heart was breaking.  
Inhaling, Don glanced at the others, who stood side by side frozen, eyes darting back and forth. Raphael looked ready to spring forward to grab Mikey and Leonardo was gazing open-mouthed at their sensei.  
Splinter looked down, then back up, his whiskers quivering. "I... I shall be in my room meditating. Donatello, please give Michelangelo a check-up and make sure he is well."  
Donnie scooted back on his butt and stared. "But... Sensei... Shouldn't we all talk abo-"  
Mikey let out a keening sob that had Splinter backing away shuddering while Raph lunged at the couch and embraced Mikey, who had pressed his fists to his face.  
Without another word, the rat turned and headed to the dojo, and Don watched Leo out of the corner of his eye. Leo looked frightened.  
Out of his element, Donatello shuffled on his knees toward the couch. "Mikey?" He reached his hand out, and hell broke loose.  
"DONNIE!" Michelangelo sounded raw and terrified, ripping away and launching into Don's arms, and Donnie might have fallen over if not for bracing himself. He had realized this might happen near the end of the video and now shame and guilt and desperate worry kept him stiff and rigid and his heart was pounding on his head...  
"Donnie, you can help stop it, you have to help me make it stop..." And his little brother actually sounded little.  
Automatically his arms came up and around, and "it's okay, Mikey, you're okay, just tell me what's wrong... " And it was all those nights over the last two years sitting up with Mike helping him express himself as they trained him to be Don's assistant, those nights when Mikey would fall asleep at the desk and Donnie would call up an incognito browser to research both his brother's traits for ADHD and Autism and it was two years later and was this a meltdown? A shutdown? Autistic burnout? Had the awakening of the psionics pushed it? Had the revelations in that video broken a wall? Had Mike's accusations and Splinter's confessions caused this now? Donatello let his mind race down that track while he made long shushing sounds and then he realized his brother was shivering and sweating and Donnie pulled back and looked at him.  
Mike was incredibly pale, grasping Don's arms in a vice grip.  
"Donnie, am I dying?" he whispered. "I can't feel my pulse. Is this shock?"  
Out of instinct, Don pressed the back of hand to Mike's cheek. He leaned in and pressed his ear slit to Mikey's heaving plastron. "You're in shock, but you're not dying. You're having a panic attack, Mikey." He carefully disengaged his brother's arms, then crossed them over his chest, supporting his elbows. "You have to breathe, Mikey. This is a very strong panic attack and you feel like you can't breathe, but I need you to take some breaths with me. Okay?"  
Blue eyes impossibly wide and clouded, Michelangelo whimpered, staring at Donatello with such absolute trust that it hurt. Donnie began breathing exercises and Mikey followed, breath hitching at first, but fifteen years of ninja training too ingrained to fail quickly took over. Mikey was still shaking and whimpering, but Donnie had his hands on his elbows and his trained ears followed the slowing steady pulse and he smiled.  
"Good. You're doing great." He brought his hands to Mike's face and his mind almost collapsed in relief when Mikey naturally leaned forward into the touch, the way he always tried to seek a loving touch or just a look of approval...  
And that had been shattered by a video taken for medical purposes and a conversation with a father who had been hiding startling truths for their entire lives.  
As if his muscles had loosened all at once, Mikey leaned forward even more and rested his head on Don's shoulder, arms and legs curling. Donnie shifted and stretched until he was cradling his only younger brother sideways in his lap; Mikey's ankles and wrists were crossed and Donnie had nudged his head under his chin, nuzzling Mikey and purring. His arms wrapped around his brother and his fingers interlaced as if they belonged there.  
Gradually, Donatello blinked and looked up. Raphael was sitting lotus style on his right, one arm around Don's shoulders and the other rubbing Mikey's carapace. Leonardo was crouched in front of him, one hand cupping Mike's head and the other pressed against Don's hands.  
"We have a lot of things to talk about," Leo said very softly.  
"Is Mikey asleep?" Raph asked just as softly.  
"No," Mikey piped up, sounding like a sleepy child. And he nuzzled Don, sighing.  
"I'll get him to bed," Don said, feeling disconnected from everything but Mikey. "We're comfortable right now. But Leo is right. And after Mike's gotten rest it's going to be a very intense family meeting."  
Never had he wanted to yell at his own father so hard. Something had broken, and he was the one who fixed broken things, and this time it was his only little brother, and as soon as he could manage to heave off the guilt, the worry, the years and years of unspoken apologies, he was going to look for the right tools, no matter what agony he had to face.  
Mikey butted his forehead against Don’s collarbone and drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Donnie, I’m s-sorry, L-Leo…Leo, I’m sorry.”  
Leo swallowed and ran his thumb down the side of Mikey’s face. “Sorry for what, little one?”  
Mike blinked and raised his head, shifting in Don’s arms until he was facing Leo. He looked miserable. “F-for hurting myself. For ne-never paying attention and never taking anything seriously. And you…you s-still trained me for the grudge match when everyone else abandoned me, even Mas-”  
Lightning quick, Leonardo had wrapped his arms around his youngest brother, Donnie’s arms still supporting. “Oh, no, Mikey. Oh, my gods. No, don’t think about that. Don’t think like that, okay? You’re Mikey, you are our Mikey, and you should never apologize for being yourself. Not to us, not to Sensei, not to anyone.”  
Michelangelo was sobbing now, heaving like a child, and Raph was massaging his carapace and pressing his beak to Mikey’s shoulder. Donnie bit his lip and clenched his teeth and lowered his beak to Mikey’s head. Their fault. It was their fault. Michelangelo had been so happy he won the Championship, so fucking proud, and all he ever wanted was their approval, their praise, their love, and yes he boasted and bragged but how else could he explain and express his desperate need to be noticed? His own father didn’t know how to raise him and train him, he couldn’t get access to ADHD medicine and not even the special herbal teas could help completely. Mikey had been left floundering in a family of discipline and darkness, throwing energy and light into shadows that rejected him…no wonder he had clung to the Battle Nexus Championship.  
Donatello cried and all his logic and reason drowned in love and fear.  
Eventually he heard Leo again. “Mike, no, you were never a burden. You were our heart, you were our joy. Being able to watch you still act young and carefree reminded me that there were more important things than nobility, honor in death, being a great warrior. We were and are still so young and inexperienced. We only have each other. It is like what I told you. I won’t let you fall. We would fall with you. I’m here. I’m protecting you, Mikey. I always was and I always will.”  
Don felt Mikey hiccup and tip his head back, so Don kissed his head and pressed his palm to Mike’s forehead. Raph’s fingers were working tense muscles against Mike’s neck and upper back above the carapace.  
“An’ I’m with him all the way, Mikey,” Raph said hoarsely. “I’d give my life to protect you.”  
“That goes for me as well,” Donnie said between sobs. “We never want to lose you, Mike.”  
A massive shudder ran through Mike’s body and for a instant Donnie’s mind screamed _seizure_! but it passed and then Mikey burst into tears again, moving to Leo again, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist. “No, no, no, no,” he gasped. “You…you...you don’t get it, that’s not what I want from you. I…I want you to live. I want you all to be with me. I don’t ever wanna lose any of you, ever, don’t you get it? I don’t want you to give your lives for me. It’s better if I go first, I’m the expendable one, I-”  
A long, loud growl from Raphael filled the room, as Leonardo’s arms tightened and Donatello gasped in shock.  
“Don’t you ever, ever say that again,” Raphael hissed, amber eyes blazing. “Michelangelo, do you hear me? I never want to hear you say you’re expendable.”  
Slowly, slowly, Mikey turned and looked at Raph, swallowing. “Are…are you angry?”  
“Damn fucking right, I’m angry.”  
“I feel it. It hurts.”  
“Yeah, it hurts. Didn’t you even hear what Leo said? We all go down. Together.”  
“But…Raph, no, I was always the weak link, I was never a great ninja…”  
“Mikey, keep talking like that and I will smack you…”  
Mike’s body abruptly went rigid, his eyes wide and cloudy, and his breathing became harsh. Donnie quickly locked his arms around his plastron, rested his chin on Mikey’s shoulder, and began to rock him. “Ssshhhhh, Mikey, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, it’s an anxiety attack, you’re okay, Raph’s not gonna hit you…”  
Raphael inhaled sharply and Donnie caught the look of sheer horror before Raph scrambled back on his butt, tucking in his arms, staring at Mike.  
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I’m so so sorry, I never…I wouldn’t…”  
“You did!” and Mikey’s outburst was sudden and raw. “You hit me and hit me, not just with the pipe but with your hands and your words, and then we grew older and you stopped but you did and I remember and…and I forgive you, Raphie. I forgive you. I forgive you.”  
Shaking, Raph crawled back and gripped Mikey’s arm. “But I still hurt you.”  
“Yeah. And…and it’s in my head.” Mike looked at him tearfully. “But…you need to know that I forgive you. All of you.”  
Raph rested his head on Mike’s shoulder. “I’m such a fucking asshole.”  
“But you’re my fucking asshole.”  
“Hmph.”  
Leonardo let out a shaky breath, almost a panicky laugh. “Mikey, please tell me you feel even a little bit better about being in the clan.”  
Mikey managed a smile. “Yeah. I do. But I don’t know how to talk to M- to Splinter. How do you tell your parent he fucked you up because he didn’t know how to connect with you?”  
Donatello huffed, almost a laugh. “You don’t. You rehearse it over and over in your head until you have a whole script and you just never find the courage.”  
Mikey turned to him and nuzzled him, purring. “M’sorry, Donnie. Not like he really understood your brain either.”  
“He tried,” Don replied easily. “But I’m not sure he really tried with you.”  
Leonardo sucked in a long breath. “Donnie, I…I honestly didn’t know. I owe you a particular apology. And perhaps I owe myself a look at Master Splinter…”  
“Oh come on, Leo” Raph mumbled. “Don’t be a martyr. We all know Splinter wasn’t perfect, no parent is.”  
“Yes, but his hideous neglect and gaslighting of Michelangelo wth regards to the psionics…”  
“No, Leo,” Michelangelo said loudly. The brothers looked at him, Don pulling away slightly. “No, that’s on me. Think about it. Like…he pushed my powers down and then focused on you guys, and I do remember that he didn’t care much if I slacked physically but he always nudged me if I mentally did stuff, since remember how easy it was for me to be spiritual? Like it could open me up for the psionics to break loose?”  
Frowining, Donatello nodded slowly. “I remember it was around that age when Mikey started goofing off more frequently and Splinter seemed to encourage it or at least not reprimand him. We just got so used to Mikey being the cause of a problem that Sensei could have blamed him for stuff he didn’t actually do because he expected it of Mikey and gradually we did as well. If even a hint of Mikey’s powers would make themselves known as we were growing up, and he told Splinter about it, Splinter might have denied it and blamed an overactive imagination.” He paused. “Oh god, that’s horrible. Oh my god, is that why…oh no.”  
“Donnie?” Mike shifted, reached up and stroked Don’s face with both hands. “Donnie, what is it? Why are you so scared?”  
Inhaling, Donnie tried to smile. “I’m just…I’m wondering if it would explain why Sensei encouraged all my tinkering so much, so you…you wouldn’t have to remember your powers, even as you tried to help me. Remember?”  
Mikey nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Dad was about tough love, too.”  
Raphael sighed. “Y’know, screw that family meeting, I don’t think Master Splinter would think he did anything wrong.”  
They all stared at him, a tiny sound escaping Mikey’s throat.  
“Think about it. He praised all of us when we did our katas and everythin’. When Mikey goofed off, he’d roll his eyes. Especially in the last few years as we really grew up.” Raph heaved a sigh and shuffled back to hold Mikey again, pressed a hand against Donnie’s carapace. “No matter what, Master Splinter stayed exactly the same. And Mikey wasn’t really good enough, not where it really counted. We could call all the family meetings, we could bring in a damn counselor, and all Sensei might talk about is the tough love approach.”  
“That’s not making me feel better,” Donatello muttered.  
“Wasn’t meant to. I’m a realist, ‘member? I’m looking at this and doing damage control. Nobody’s ready to talk to Master Splinter, not until we’ve all rested and maybe had something to eat. Especially Mike.” Firmly, Raph reached out and turned Mike’s chin so they were face to face. “Promise me you’ll smile, yeah?” And his golden eyes narrowed.  
Blinking, Mikey gave a small grin. “Promise. I’ll smile.”  
“Good. Go make lunch.”  
MIkey sighed and looked at Leo, who smirked. Donnie gave him a last hug and helped him stand up. Mike was shaky, leaning on his good leg, but he shrugged off help and began walking very slowly to the kitchen. Leo and Raph followed, keeping pace. Donatello stood back. He frowned, turning off the televisions. Then he glanced at the shut doors of the dojo, the silhouettes of long burning candles.  
He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and walked to the paper doors. Too many loud thoughts were streaming through his head.  
He raised his hand to slide the doors open, and then the voice of his sensei and father came through softly: “Please come in, Donatello. I had hoped to talk with you.”  
Another deep breath, and Donnie went into the dojo to face his master.


	3. Through The Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donatello confronts Master Splinter. It doesn't so smoothly Michelangelo is way too casual about his trauma. Raphael finds himself becoming the responsible brother.

Through The Flames

* * *

 

A drop in the ocean

A crack in the sky

It's setting the notion

We're all gonna die

And you're always running

With nowhere to go

You're living for nothing

But dying to know

But we're all terrified

I don't wanna be a superhero

'Cause I can't save the world

So I'm never gonna get the girl

I just wanna do better

Superhero

'Cause I can't save myself

Much less somebody else

So I gotta do better

Oh oh oh oh oh

So I gotta do better

Oh oh oh

You're caught in a cycle

You'll never get out

Afraid of your shadow

And living in doubt

But this isn't over

It's only begun

And there is no honor

In giving it all up

I don't wanna be a superhero

'Cause I can't save the world

So I'm never gonna get the girl

I just wanna do better

Superhero

'Cause I can't save myself

Much less somebody else

So I gotta do better

So I gotta do better

I don't wanna be a superhero

'Cause I can't save the world

So I'm never gonna get the girl

I just wanna do better

Superhero

-Falling In Reverse, "Superhero"

* * *

His knees felt the roughness of the tatami mat even through the thick padding and he did not bow his head.

_"_ _Here we are, Day One of Michelangelo's Awakening. He was comatose for six weeks, and we're talking lowest on the Glasgow Coma Scale without severe brain damage, so…what is that, Leatherhead, three? Four? Eh, you'll confirm when you get back, right?"_

He took several deep deep breaths. Mere feet away from him, familiar gray ears twitched forward and quivered, whiskers pointed toward him desperately still, like the world in a freeze mode.

_The red blinking light assured him as he aimed the camera toward the makeshift hospital bed that has started out as a gurney, um, borrowed, from a closing urgent care clinic. Casey was good at that sort of thing. At least it had wheels. Mike and Raph were talking in low, low voices, Mikey barely awake but smiling that familiar sunny grin. How was that possible, with that much pain?_

His head was starting to hurt and his skin was still damp from when his little brother was crying all over him. His sensei's keen nose twitched, obviously picking up on the salt and musk. Donatello sighed.

"You know how…" he began, then paused. Did it matter? Should he bother? Would Splinter understand the bigger terms or would he just nod and smile and pat Donnie's shoulder like he always had, _like he always had,_ assuming the young genius would just _know_ and _fix_ and _build_ because that was who he was and besides, he had a willing eager heir to train?

Splinter did not move, but his ears shook harder.

"You know how when an animal is badly wounded and it can't get away, it will lash out with strength it doesn't have, with instincts overwhelemed and focused only on survival, and it doesn't care who is trying to hurt or help, all it wants is to stay alive…"

_"_ _Donatello here, and this is Day One of…of…well, Michelangelo's trance state, I guess we're calling it. His cognitive reactions are. Um. Abnormal. His response time is delayed only because a different part of his brain is in control. Normally the hypothalamus regulates very basic mechanisms, but there are other brain parts at work here, and I didn't grab Leatherhead's scanner in time, but I would say the psionic abilities are attached to the limbic system and woven throughout the…wait, what did Master Splinter just say? Leo, what was that about?"_

"After the danger has passed and there is only comfort, the brain may switch into a state of pure shock, seeking remedy and love, understanding that everything is okay, that death didn't happen. And sometimes, that state never really fades like it is supposed to. Especially not in particularly sentient beings, primates, dolphins probably…humans."

_"_ _Okay, Day Four of the trance state. I need to whisper. Something isn't…I mean, I don't feel right. But I think we're going to need this recording for the future. I don't think Mikey knows what's happening. That's the problem, I don't think he can fully consent. And the things we've asked him to do have been simple enough. Demonstrate his telekinesis and ESP so we can guage. But…Sensei has been making commands. They're not suggestions, they're freaking orders. He's with Mikey and Leo in the dojo now, and Mikey…the way he's doing katas is robotic. He's not Mikey! I can't explain it, Leatherhead, but we can't keep outright making him do stuff unless we know full well he wants to. I mean, after a couple of days he was responding, basic words and replies, sure, but there's no emotion, there isn't any real willingness, and I'm no psychologist. So, LH, next time you're here, can you review the previous days and-"_

"And we get Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, on top of anxiety, on top of all sorts of neuropsychological disorder that could occur. Now. We're mutants with half-human DNA, right? Our brains are pretty human, there's a tiny percentage of pure animal instinct. And therein lies part of the problem, here."

He paused long enough, and Splinter whispered hoarsely, "Explain the problem, Donatello."

"You…you are a rat first, and a person second. We are turtles first, and humans second. You may have observed Master Yoshi and Tang Shen during your years with them, and you learned how it is to be human, but perhaps not human enough to truly care the way a mammalian – a human - parent cares." And here Donnie held his breath and clenched his fists, but still he did not look away, and he did not bow his head.

Sure enough, Splinter bristled and his tail thumped hard. "For twenty years, I have raised you and loved you, and now you come to me to declare-"

"I declare," Donnie interrupted a little loudly, "That you have rat instincts first and foremost. You wish to survive, you need your offspring to survive and be strong, and as Leo was seen as your shadow and your best student, naturally he was to be the heir. Raph was the rebel and all you could really do was help rein him in. I…I was gifted intellectually and technically, and as soon as you registered that, you knew I would be building us a home and a life regardless, and you let me, you encouraged me, later you pushed me, more and more, weapons and technology and security, ways to combat our enemies and bring down Saki when he threatened us, because of your memories of his slaughter of Yoshi and Shen."

"…and Michelangelo," Splinter breathed, voice expressionless.

Donatello squeezed his eyes shut. "Mikey…he…you knew he would never really have the destiny of a true ninja; he was loud and colorful and far too emotionally needy. But on the other hand, he could be the greatest warrior any master would ever train, due to his athletic prowess, his desire to fit into society, his desperate want to be accepted. The problem is that all you could really see was him goofing off and not taking lessons seriously the way Leo and Raph and I did. He just wanted to play. And this was not a game. And then we have the other thing."

Splinter finally nodded and shifted on his tatami mat, his black eyes glittering. "His natural extrasensory perception."

"Yes. The thing you kept hidden from us all for twenty years." Don's molars ground together. "The thing that could have helped make him even greater. The thing that might have saved our asses in battle so many times over, maybe prevented so many horrors…" He lost his voice for a second, anger clouding him, his mind automatically spewing out mathematics and chemistry to funnel that rage into something with bigger walls. He thought of Leo crashing through the window and barely surviving, he thought of Raph standing over Mikey with the lead pipe, he thought of the Utrom ship exploding with them and Ch'rell because they didn't have a choice ( _what if they had had a choice? Mikey could have used telekinesis…)_ …he thought of the horrifying alternate future Ultimate Drakko had sent him to. His anger rose, became a fog, and he snarled at himself to control it, to channel it. The first thirty-six numbers of pi. Conversions from metric to standard. All the names of all the moons in the Sol solar system. How many episodes in the original _Star Trek_ versus how many in _Star Trek The Next Generation._ The names of the astronauts who died when the _Challenger_ exploded. How many times Mikey's name graced the top scores in all their video games.

Mikey sobbing like a lost wounded kitten in his arms.

"You kept things from us, Sensei. Vital things. You kept Michelangelo in a state of learned psychological helplessness, relying on Leonardo and you for reassurance, on me to make sure our home didn't explode while he was reading comics and escaping life. He didn't ask to be the way he is, but we pushed him to it, we forced him because you were so afraid of his potential. He could have been a writer, an artist, a pro athlete, he could have been anything if society had accepted him, and you made sure that wouldn't happen."

And now he could hear his own voice getting louder and louder, but his anger didn't really work like that, usually he was quiet. Wasn't he?

Was this another lie?

Could Mikey have been a completely different person?

_"_ _I'm ending the recording. I told myself and Mikey this would just be about his recovery and it's become more than that, and I am guilty enough. Mikey, whatever part of him is conscious and in control, gave me a hug and told me that he understood and that it was okay and that he forgave me and he loved me. But I don't know him. I don't know where he put my Mikey in his own head. Will he even remember that hug? Will he remember sparring with Casey and Raph? Will he…will he remember Master Splinter ordering him to do exercises and clean the lair and put away all his video games and his comics? I can't…I'm sorry, LH and April, I know there will be more but I'm done with this video. Maybe I will let Mikey watch it when he's fully recovered, and he can make further decisions all on his own. But for now…I…I…No. I can't Donatello Hamato, signing out."_

…

Raphael nearly choked on his soda when he looked more closely at how Michelangelo was adding eggs to the bowl. "Are you…is that…are those eggs floating?"

Mikey just grinned, his brow knit. "Perfect crack, perfect crack…yes! Perfect! I am the champion!" He grabbed the whisk and began mixing the four eggs, while leaning heavily against the counter.

"You look tired," Leo remarked.

"Just a little," Mike shrugged. "But omelettes are easy. Okay, aside from the cheese, what do we want? Green peppers?"

"Got any sausage?" Raph asked.

Leo went to the fridge. "In luck, it's unopened." As he carried the package to the table, Klunk appeared out of thin air and landed on the table, mewling.

Michelangelo laughed. "No, baby, c'mon, Daddy has your food here." He quickly limped to the cupboard and filled Klunk's bowl, making clicking and trilling sounds that were obviously turtle, but translated enough to cat. Klunk chirped back excitedly and jumped down. Mike stroked him from head to tail as he ate.

"Can you see inside Klunk's mind?" Leo set the sausage down and it immediately flew to the counter and unwrapped itself.

Michelangelo straightened up, massaged his temples, and got to work cutting up the sausage. "Yeah," he said. "It's all images and concepts, and then I have to translate in the back of my brain. This telepathy stuff is happening really fast. D'you know how fast I had to build walls a little bit ago?"

Raphael frowned. "When?"

Mikey waved at him. "Oh, when I was in the trance. My brain was working super fast to get me consciously up to speed. Dude. It _hurt_ like hell. No wonder I stayed down for so long. Pfft. No wonder that video freaked me out. I didn't even know Dad would take advantage."

Leo and Raph looked at each other and frowned harder.

There was an odd sound coming from outside the kitchen, from the direction of the dojo. Leonardo, with his supernatural hearing, stepped to the doorway and concentrated. Raphael held his breath, while Michelangelo stopped moving. Leo blinked, then widened his eyes. "Uh. Donnie's yelling. And I mean angry yelling."

"Oooh, that's rare." Mikey turned all the way around. The knife on its own continued to chop up the sausage. "I don't even wanna know what excuse Splinter is giving."

Raphael narrowed his eyes at him, then startled when Leo grabbed his arm. "Wait, Leo, you're not gonna just barge in there, are you?"

"You would," Leo said, "I am intrigued."

"Have fun storming the castle," Michelangelo grinned, and Raph opened his mouth, then closed it. Mikey obviously had no intention of following them. His telepathy was probably giving him all the information he needed. Or even wanted.

Raph let out a huge breath and began wondering when he had started becoming the rational, responsible one in the family. He stared holes into the back of Leo's head as the two of them marched out into the lair, toward the dojo.

Leonardo paused just outside the doors and released Raphael's arm. Raph just watched him. Leo's eyes were narrowed, his nostrils flared, his fingertips twitching. Beyond that he was a statue. Rolling his eyes, Raph folded his arms and waited.

"…to consider he could have surpassed Leo? You? Master Yoshi? The Ancient One? Of course you did, that's why you did what you did!" and Donatello's voice was high, tight, and shaking, and Raphael felt every muscle in his upper body tremble with the urge to burst through and grab his younger brother and yank him away from whatever was making him sound so, so, so upset…

Leo's palm against his chest made him growl. But then Donnie's voice stopped.

Raphael sucked in his breath.

"Raph?" Don called out.

"My sons," Splinter called out.

 _Fuck this,_ Raph thought, and shoved open the doors and marched inside.

…

Donnie had not expected his brothers. Really. Of course, he hadn't been thinking straight, either. He _could_ have factored at least Raph barging in. He should have. He was a little surprised to see Leo. Of course Mikey wasn't with them. Of course.

He was shaking. He was _sweating_. This felt surreal. This all felt wrong. His head spun. How did it come to this? How did their family get to _this_ point? Or had it been that way since they were fifteen and patrolling topside under Master Splinter's lovingly strict guidance? Had it been longer?

Don had to stop thinking. He had to _stop_ —

Arms were around him from behind. Raph sighed in his ear. Leo's voice on his other side said, "Sensei." Like a finality, like a rock dropped into a lake.

_Stop thinking, Donnie. Just breathe. Remember your training. Hey, remember that time on the Tricetraton ship? Do that. Breathe. Reach out for something to help. Last time it was Father. This time it's brothers._

He felt himself grab Raphael's forearms and squeeze. Raphael's strength pulled him up, to his feet, and steadied him.

"No more shouting," his older brother whispered. "It doesn't sound right. I hate it when you're upset, Donnie."

He couldn't agree more.

"I cannot properly defend my actions," Splinter was saying, "beyond the pure thought that I was doing the best thing for you four, for Michelangelo in particular. My only thoughts were of your safety and your growth."

"What is growth if part of it is restrained?" Leonardo was saying, very softly, very gently.

 _Oh, Leo,_ Donatello mused.

"Protected," was Splinter's quick reply.

Raph growled again, too low for anyone but Don to hear.

_Oh shit._

He bit his lip and thought back to pointing that camera at his baby brother, watching a barely-there Michelangelo perform tasks that were not possible. Quiet moments when it was the two of them, and sometimes Leatherhead was there, encouraging Mikey to lift something or move something. No pressure, no cajoling, very…conversational. The three of them enjoying geekery moments. And then…those moments when Splinter would walk in and gently suggest that Michelangelo do something else, and Mikey would stiffen for a fifth of a second, and then he would smile, turn his clouded dilated eyes to his sensei, and nod. Really it had seemed simple. Innocent.

Mikey had seemed happy. Like the thing with Casey. Mikey had been _smiling_. That rakish grin, that _I am the best at what I do_ spark. Casey's eyes widening as sharp things had sped toward him only to stop inches from his body or to veer away. And Raph had been there, laughing, and…Splinter had not been there. Mikey had smiled when Splinter had _not_ observed him.

Leo with Mikey in the dojo, sparring, Leo blindfolding himself. Mikey, in his trance, grinning his _I am the best at what I do_ grin, whispering, "Battle Nexus Champion, remember" in that hollow monotone, dodging and sliding and slipping under Leo's grasping hands, bending backwards in ways none of them could with their shells. Flipping Leo, pinning him to the mat with his hands and knees and nothing else, levitating Leo's swords so they pointed at their master, Leo smiling and yielding.

No Splinter.

Michelangelo laughing and dancing, a mix of ballet and capoeira, still not Mikey but part of Mikey, his nunchaku spinning in the air near him. Raphael leaning in the doorway, clapping to the rhythm of Mike's acrobatic movements. _I am the best at what I do_ , like a song chorus, like a chant.

Master Splinter appearing next to Raph silently, like a shadow. Michelangelo stopping and bowing low to their sensei.

Mikey walking cat-like into Donnie's workshop, softly asking if he could assist in any way. Mikey using telekinesis. Mikey dipping into Donnie's mind. The two of them conversing in science. Mikey with a huge smile on his face. _I am the best at what I do_ as an undercurrent full of confidence and joy.

Donatello blinked rapidly, realizing that there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He took deep shaky breaths. Raphael rubbed his arms and pressed his thumbs into his shoulders. He was having trouble hearing the conversation in front of him. Selective hearing, he guessed.

Leonardo and Splinter were talking very quietly, almost sub-vocally. Splinter's head was bowed, his raised black eyes glistening. Leo sounded like he was holding back tears. Then Splinter's hands shot out a grasped Leo's arms. Leo leaned back, hissing lightly, and twisted his forearms to release Splinter's grip. Then he grasped Splinter's wrists, pressing his thumb to his father's palms, rubbing them in a circle. Splinter drew in a breath, murmured something. Leo gulped, leaned in, and murmured something back.

Donnie heard Raph inhale deeply behind him. Probably more a reaction to the physical actions rather than the barely-heard words. Raph's breath tickled his ear slit.

"Wanna get out of here?"

Donnie felt himself nod. Raph very gently turned him around. He felt Raph stiffen and inhale again.

Michelangelo was standing in the doorway.


	4. Bonfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splinter's sons confront him. Leo confronts uncomfortable memories. Mikey confonts himself. Everybody gets weepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took, literally, forever. I've never gone so long between updates. Chronic pain and such really messed things up. But my betas have been amazing and patient. Silexwitch practically gave me all the stuff I needed to go for the next few chapters. And here, a huge huge special thank you to Celeste38 for helping out with large chunks of dialogue. She literally wrote an entire scene between Leo and Splinter, and I only altered a little.

Chapter Four: Bonfire

* * *

 

It was a mess, it was too much, and suddenly Leonardo felt overwhelmingly young. So much had happened since Michelangelo’s injuries and the family honestly hadn’t had real  _time_  to truly sit and  _think_  and now…

Leo swallowed audibly and blinked back tears.

“Sensei.”

Donatello looked drained from his emotional outburst as he was slowly lifted back up onto his feet. Raphael, in turn, looked so lost as he did his best to comfort the younger turtle. While Splinter, standing at the center of the room, looked like he was trapped in a corner and on the verge of fighting for his life.

Leonardo stared at his tiny desperate family and sensed they were all standing on thin ice. He needed to tread carefully.  _I’m glad Mikey isn’t here right now,_  he thought as he took a step forward. Splinter’s eyes, bright with disbelieving hurt over the accusations that had been hurdled at him by Donatello, shifted to lock with Leonardo’s. They had become tinted with desperation. While Leonardo knew his father truly believed that what he was saying was the truth, that he really had the best of intentions when he made the decision he had made all those years ago...it still rang false in his ears. Good intentions or not, Splinter had essentially smothered a part of Michelangelo with a psychic pillow. Now the aftermath of that decision had come back to haunt them all. Leonardo thought of what his brother could do now. Of the pride that bubbled out of Michelangelo when he was allowed to go all out. And not only that, but how valuable those particular set of skills would have been over the years if his brother had simply been allowed to fine tune them and use them to their full potential.

How could his father, who encouraged them to do their best, who stressed how important it was that they do their best because their lives literally depended on it, turn around and expect the brother with the rawest talent out of the four of them to keep a part of himself locked away for years and years? How could Splinter do that, and then take every opportunity to scoff at Michelangelo for not applying himself enough to the art of ninjitsu? All the while comparing him to his brothers, especially to Leonardo, as if he should strive to be more like them? How could Splinter blame Michelangelo for following his father’s orders and suffering for it?

Gently, despite how upset he was, and as softly as he could, Leonardo posed his question: “What is growth if part of it is restrained?”

“Protected,” Splinter snapped back.

Leo winced.  _Gods, this is so…this is so hard._  “Father…”

“He was too young, Leonardo, he was too  _young,_ ” Splinter whispered beseechingly, lowering his head with clear guilt despite the confidence radiating from his words. “When the Ancient One cautioned me about your brother’s powers, he told me that bright ones like Michelangelo burn out. He told me how destructive that had the potential of being, how overwhelming it could be, and I--”

“That caution wasn’t worth it though,” Leonardo said tearfully. He felt his hands clench. “I know the Ancient One is wise…but when it came to Mikey, he was wrong. Why can’t you see that, Father? Mikey…Mikey needed  _guidance_  and knowledge, not…not soft safe rooms with no outlet, no way to free himself, to  _know_  who he could really be if he just  _let himself_  out…Father, please, you were wrong, you  _know_  that, don’t you?”

An image came to him, a  _memory,_  Leonardo himself in rage and trauma, tearing through his own family, tearing open his body’s wounds, tearing apart his own soul to reach an unattainable monstrous thing that would destroy everything he had, everything he  _lived for,_  his entire life, his family, his very essence, struck down by impossible choices and improbable worlds bleeding from fatal blows… he remembered how dangerous and destructive he had been, back then, still a child, carrying a universe on his back, knowing in his shattered heart that  _he had done everything he could, there was nothing more that could be done…_

Leo heard himself growl and he tightened his whole body.

That look of being cornered came to Splinter’s eyes again, and he reached out and gripped his eldest son’s arms tightly. A little too tightly. Denial and guilt circled each other in the old rat’s expression as he shook his head and struggled to cling to the rationale behind his decision that he had been clinging to for all these years. But Leonardo could see that his own words, as well as Donatello’s, were having an impact now. Hissing from his father’s nails digging into his skin, Leo leaned back and twisted out of the rat’s grip. Using a calming technique that Splinter himself had taught him, the eldest turtle pressed his thumbs into his father’s palms and rubbed them in in a slow circle.

Splinter shuddered and took in a shaky breath. “Your brother is broken…” he remarked, in a quiet, broken voice. “…and I… Leonardo, I am the one who broke him…”

_ Oh gods and Buddha. I didn’t want…oh, not this, I don’t want this… _

Gulping, Leonardo leaned closer and blinked away his tears. “This can still be fixed, Father,” he said as quietly as he could. “I promise. Look, just…talk to Mikey. You…we all should talk to the Ancient One too, Usagi, maybe, he’s our friend and…” He trailed off when a shiver passed through his sensei.

Splinter hung his head low again. Leo watched tears roll down and flatten Splinter’s fur. The rat heaved a long sigh, and then his ears perked and he lifted his gaze up and over Leonardo’s shoulder. “My…my son…” And his voice trembled.

Raphael abruptly let out a pained snarl that was barely audible over Donatello’s stunned breath.

“Mikey?” Donnie said hoarsely.

_ Oh. Shit. _  Leonardo turned, struggling. Ah, emotions. He was famed for holding his in, wasn’t he? Hah. No, not this time. He felt his breathing quicken. He felt his father’s hands slip from his. He felt his legs shake.

Michelangelo’s figure was framed almost like a painting, and he was so still and so silent that Leo felt an odd shock – when was Mikey ever that still?  _Oh, right. When he changed._

Leonardo opened his mouth, ready to explain…whatever this all was…when Mikey came all the way into the room and stood right next to him.

“Father,” Mikey whispered.

* * *

 

That was a problem with clairsentience. Not  _the_  problem, just a problem. He reached out a little and felt a lot.  _Oh, Donnie. You shouldn’t have to do this._

Michelangelo sighed and left his ingredients on the counter. This would only take a few minutes, right? Besides, he was  _avoiding._

Ugh.

There were too many  _thoughts_. He couldn’t block. His walls were shaking. He  _needed_  Master Splinter.

A voice in his head – his child voice – whispered that  _Master Splinter manipulated him, all of them._  Michelangelo shook his head violently, because  _it wasn’t his fault, The Ancient One told him to._

But Splinter could have ignored The Ancient One.

Mikey’s head hurt, and there were too many  _thoughts._  Images, oh gods. The Ultimate Drako. Wait.  _Why?_  Ohh, so much agony.

His feet carried him farther than he wanted, and then there he was, just inside the dojo, staring at his family, who all looked heartbroken. Leo looked on the verge of finishing a heavy, hushed talk with Sensei. Raph and Don were clinging to each other. Mikey felt a weight he had never wanted on his shoulders. It was trying to steal his breath.

_ Release the tension, _  his brain told him.  _Leo. Go to Leo. Breathe him in, breathe in his calm. Leo has always been there._

He squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw, and marched up to stand right next to his eldest brother before he could change his mind. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t shaking.

“Father,” he whispered, steadier than he realized. His voice seemed to echo and grow huge. Leonardo blinked, staring at him and then at Splinter. Splinter’s ears twitched heavily, and his huge black eyes were wide and full of shame.

Mikey closed his eyes for a moment and saw through childhood’s eyes, saw the big round man in the portal scowling at his father. The Ancient One’s mouth was moving in slashing biting ways, and he thought he could see deep deep fear.

“I…I think you should talk to the Ancient One,” he said, as gently as he could. “Not…not all of this is on you. Or me. He’s the one who told you to close me up.”

He heard Leo inhale sharply and flicked his gaze to him. The image of his brother gently, carefully scolding their father was almost amusing, and his mind caught their conversation quickly.  _Huh. Thanks for having my back, Leo. Good…good thoughts, good idea._

Sensei rubbed at his face, his fur still damp. There was that urge to take him close and hold him so tight, his poor father, who—

_Wait. Not just yet._

“And yet I listened to him,” Splinter said hoarsely. “I believed him very firmly.” His hands were shaking as he held them out. “I…I cannot…oh, my son, my sweet darling littlest son, I cannot begin to repair this damage. But…if you would allow me, I can begin to try and make amends. I can do what I can in the now to make your life up to you, those stolen moments and broken words. Michelangelo, please. Please know how sorry I am. I love you. I am so very sorry.”

Oh, words. Mikey understood. He was so good at them, his art, his craft, his game, his weapons, his greatest arsenal. And he could  _sense_  words now,  _feel_  words,  _know_  them intimately as every sense in his body and every sense in his mind. He drew his father’s words into his mind and moved them around, weighed them, rolled them back and forth and up and down.

Master Splinter really was truly sorry. This was a genuine, honest, brokenhearted apology, and he loved him. He  _loved_  him.

Mikey took a deep breath and nodded,  _maybe, yeah, okay, because we need healing,_  and very slowly he took his sensei’s hands, holding them like thin glass. “I…okay. Yeah. I guess…I think…It’ll be…okay,” he breathed. “Probably. I dunno yet, we’re not there.”

A couple of feet away, Donatello sniffed and chuckled a little. Mikey managed a smile, and next to him Leonardo huffed, lips curving up. “I can’t see the future  _that_  well,” Mikey mumbled, and his head wasn’t hurting anymore. Master Splinter just nodded, closing his eyes. He seemed to deflate physically and emotionally, his grip tightening.

“We will talk,” he said, “all of us.”

Michelangelo held up a hand. “Okay. What about what Leo said to you?”

Leonardo stiffened. Raphael and Donatello frowned in utter confusion.

“What…what Leo said to Sensei,” Mikey said, doubt sweeping over him. “I heard it.” He tapped the side of his head.

Leo bit his lip. “I…suggested we talk to the Ancient One. Soon.”

Donnie and Raph muttered to each other, Raph making growling turtle noises.

Splinter let out a very long sigh and withdrew his hands. “Yes. I supposed speaking to the Ancient One takes priority. He has his reasons for what he suggested I do when you were young.”

“Fucked up, crummy reasons,” Raph said. The rat merely shrugged. He stepped back, and Mikey felt oddly relieved for that space. He  _loved_  his dad, he loved him, but…

His breath hitched and he turned, automatically. And Leonardo was there, right there, arms open and already around his shoulders, already starting to pull him in, and Mikey just…fell, against his neck, hands gripping his biceps and beak pressing tight into Leo’s collarbone, body suddenly sagging, supported by his big brother who always, always took his weight and his oddness and his  _everything_  and kept pushing him back up when he needed it, the sad weighted boy eternally responsible for three clanmates who lost himself for months and months, who came back to the sunlight because it was  _Mikey_  who defended him, who insisted that Leonardo needed to  _be,_  and Mikey remembered, in a burst of fireworks, that Leo was the  _only one_  willing to train him for that ridiculous grudge match in the Battle Nexus, when he was young and stupid and mouthing off and  _so so_  foolish, Leo’s words a steady mantra…

“In this life, we only have each other. If one of us goes down, we all go down.”

He felt his brother’s entire body become a statue, felt his brother’s entire mind come to a halt.

_ In this life, we only have each other. If one of us goes down, we all go down. _

He repeated it, in his mind, in his mouth, vibrating across his brother’s skin, and he sensed a heavy hidden wall inside Leonardo begin to crumble. He grinned and poured strength into his hug.  _C’mon, Leo, this is the light. Be in the light. It hurts, this all hurts too much. But you’re gonna help us all climb the hill. Just like you and I did back then. Thank you for what you said to him. You know you still got it._

Doubt. It broke apart inside his burdened brother, who seemed so so surprised it was even there, and that wall kept on crumbling.

Leo pressed his beak to Mikey’s temple, breathing harshly. His thoughts, careful and weighed, were smiling.  _You’re the most amazing, incorrigible brat in the world with your ability to bring us all together. I really thought we were going to destroy ourselves._

Michelangelo just huffed and nuzzled him before pulling away just enough to murmur out loud, “If anything destroys us it’ll be me, alone, because I’d rather blow the whole damn thing to pieces than lose any of you.”

“That’s really, bizarrely ominous,” Leo sub-vocalized back, still smiling. “You’re so weird.”

“Told you, I can’t see the future yet. I just know what we have.” Pulling back fully, Mikey sighed. He turned and beckoned Raph and Donnie, who fell over themselves to grab him and pull Leo in.

As one, the four turtles looked at their sensei. Splinter had a tiny, wavering smile on his face.


End file.
